


when you can't run

by coffeestain



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeestain/pseuds/coffeestain
Summary: They are rebels, now, on the fringes of society, on the fringes of deep space. They are drifting, out in the black, barely scraping by in a rusty, beat-up transport ship, and they have little more than a goal: stay alive, stay flying. Captain Steve Rogers knows this much. Knows to keep going, no matter what. Knows that no matter how far the reach of the Alliance may get, well. They’ll just get themselves a little bit further.





	when you can't run

_"After the Earth was used up, we found a new solar system and hundreds of new Earths were terraformed and colonized. The central planets formed the Alliance and decided all the planets must join under their rule. There was some disagreement on that point. After the War, many of the Independents who had fought and lost drifted to the edges of the system, far from Alliance control. Out here, people struggled to get by with the most basic technologies; a ship would bring you work, a gun would help you keep it. A captain's goal is simple: find a crew, find a job, keep flying."_

* * *

Steve Rogers dove for cover.

The booming sound from the explosion behind him still rung in his ears as he hit the dirt, and yet still as he stood up, breathing hard and trying to wipe the dust from his eyes and face. He ran, best he could for all he was in the line of fire, back to where his companions were settled in a makeshift foxhole.

“Cap,” an exhausted, breathless voice of a radio operator Steve didn’t know the name of rang out from the darkness of the cave. “Command says air support is holding till they can assess our status.” 

“Our status,” Steve said grimly, taking a moment to peer out of the foxhole to the din in the valley below, “is that we need some gorram air support. Get back online and tell ‘em to get in here.” 

“Their assault vehicle is shredding us, Cap,” came another voice. It was Nat, the one person in Steve’s company who he’d actually managed to forge a strong friendship with, despite the hell that’d constantly rained down around them. Her fiery hair matched her personality - strong, defiant, smooth - though now, it was slick with dust and grime, pulled back into a tangled ponytail. She’d led other troops, back into the foxhole, ducking for cover in the momentary safety of the den amongst her squadmates. Though her voice was collected and calm, Steve knew she was exhausted, too. 

“They won’t move without a lieutenant's authorization code, sir.” Came the voice of the radio operator, downright trembling in contrast to Natasha’s composure. 

Frustrated, Steve clambered over to the body of a nearby officer and ripped the badge from his uniform. “Here,” he said, tossing it to the radio operator. “Here’s your code. You’re Lieutenant Phillips. Congratulations on your promotion, now get us some air support!” 

Steve then turned to Natasha, still breathless. “Pull back just far enough to wedge ‘em in here, we get a squad to high ground, start pickin’ ‘em off-”

“High ground is a death sentence with that assault vehicle in the air-” Natasha pointed out. 

“Thanks for volunteering,” Steve joked with a grin that Natasha did not reciprocate. “Klein, we’ll need cover fire-”

Suddenly, everything shook. Bright orange flashes illuminated the foxhole for only brief seconds at a time before turning back to darkness. In the light of the explosion, Steve could see the faces of the troops on both his and Nat’s squad, looking young and terrified and weak. 

“Just focus,” he said in a near-futile attempt to lift their spirits. With a brief glance around, he continued with as strong and confident a  voice he could muster in the bedlam. “The Alliance said they were gonna waltz through Valkyrie Valley, and we choked ‘em with those words. We have done the  _ impossible, _ and that makes us mighty.” Though hell rained on outside the dim foxhole, Steve took a breath to gain some determination of his own. “Just a little while longer and we’re gonna be raining fire on ‘em, so you hold, yeah? You _ hold. _ ” 

The troops shuffled out to take their positions, though their uncertainty still loomed in the air like the cinders from nearby explosions.

“Do you really think we can take down the assault vehicle, Cap?” Natasha asked as the group readied their weapons. 

“D’ya even need to ask?” Steve said with a grin. Confident as he was, insecurity pooled at the pit of his stomach. Taking a moment, just a brief second to himself, he pulled out a piece of tattered paper from one of his coat pockets, just to take a glance. A letter. 

_ Bucky. _

Really, it’d only been over a year since he’d left for school, but it felt like decades longer . He deserved it - really, Steve told himself, over and over (and over and over, in dark moments) - Bucky was smart, hardworking and he sure as hell deserved better than the miserable, destitute border moon they’d grown up on together. Steve really couldn’t blame him for choosing to accept the scholarship, even if the thought of being alone for the duration of Bucky’s school program scared him more than any war could.

_ I wish this place was at home, Steve,  _ the letter had said. _ I wish I could come home from classes every day and see your face. _

That was months ago.

It was hard, Steve figured, to get letters around like this, when he was going from one place to another, practically all over the damned planet, fighting the good fight against the Alliance, and Bucky had classes to study for, anyway, so it was okay.

It was _okay._

At least - that’s what Steve would tell himself every time he felt the letters folded up hastily in the tattered leather book in his front pocket press up against his chest, every time he instinctively turned around to see Bucky’s reaction to something funny that’d happened, only to realize that he wasn’t by Steve’s side anymore. And Bucky - despite how he would badmouth the Alliance till he was blue in the face - he was on a Central Planet now, offered a scholarship to a prestigious academy that a part of him just couldn’t turn down. From the few letters Steve had gotten since he moved there, he seemed to enjoy it all for the fact that it wasn’t at home. That he wasn’t with Steve.

And Steve, god - Steve couldn’t think of a single place in the ‘Verse he would rather be than fighting for Bucky’s freedom; for  _ both _ their freedom. And he wouldn’t admit it, but at least out there, on the battlefield, in the unending hellscape of war, at least he had something to think about other than how much he missed his best friend. 

“Ready?” Steve asked, carefully pushing the folded letter back into his jacket pocket. 

Natasha spared Steve a glance as she got into position. “Always.” 

With that, Steve made his way out of the dark foxhole and down into the valley towards where an Alliance soldier manned an enormous mounted machine gun. 

“Klein,” Natasha addressed a young soldier who still sat shivering in his place, even after she and Steve had given the orders. He didn’t respond, only stared into the cacophony of battle before him. “ _ Klein, _ ” Nat repeated, though he just sat silent, still, like he couldn’t even hear her. “Damn it,” she muttered to herself, took up her own gun to give Steve the cover fire herself. She followed him slowly, several paces behind, giving him cover where he couldn’t see. Steve stopped to take shelter behind a large pile of rocks, just above where the machine gun and its operator laid in wait, unsuspecting. Natasha followed moments after, and they wordlessly took cover from nearby gunshots and explosions. Steve, after a deep breath, took aim at the Alliance soldier with his own rifle and  _ 3...2...1...  _ He barely had any time to stand up and aim back at Steve before he fell to the ground, lifeless. Steve hated how that became easier every time. 

The mounted gun now unmanned, beckoning, Steve bolted down further into the valley and took command of it. The thing really was huge, it reminded him, distantly, of an old arcade machine; the kind you’d have to climb into and sit in to play. The gun took both hands to operate, and as soon as Steve took the helm, its viewfinder screen lit up with information, much of which he only pretended to understand, because really, he figured, all it took was  _ point  _ and  _ shoot,  _ and that’d been working for him pretty well so far, so why complicate it? 

Steve took aim at the assault vehicle, hovering above them in the air, taunting them, easily picking off Independent soldiers left and right.  _ Not anymore.  _ It took several shots from the machine gun, Steve found, but soon the aircraft was drifting, falling through the air ungracefully like a downed bird with a broken wing. Steve let out a triumphant holler, excited - until he realized the aircraft was coming right for him; would probably crash right where he stood. 

He ran, as fast as he could, towards anywhere but in the path of the assault vehicle, and called for Natasha as he did - she stood only a few feet nearby, covering Steve while he was supposed to man the machine gun; she looked up, immediately noticing the aircraft with its left wing completely destroyed, thanks to Steve’s handiwork, headed straight towards them. She ran alongside Steve and they dove away from the crash, seconds to spare. They both looked up, almost in unison, from where they lay in the dirt and grime, to see the din that Steve had caused - the aircraft in a mangled, firey wreck, right where they had been standing not moments before - and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Nice cover fire,” Natasha said, annoyed, moments later when they were back in the foxhole, to the trembling Klein who was supposed to have their backs. 

“Did you  _ see  _ that?!” Steve said, mostly to himself, giddy with adrenaline from his encounter with the assault vehicle. “What’s our status on th-” he turned to face the radio operator from before only to be met with the man’s lifeless body sitting in a slump on the ground next to his post, and his voice fell. “Nat,” he spoke simply, the excitement gone in an instant, and nodded his head towards the dead officer. Natasha ambled over to tend to the body. 

“Hey,” Steve started, facing Klein, his trembling cohort. “Listen to me.” No response. 

“Klein,  _ look at me. _ ” The soldier finally turned to face Steve, and there was only fear and death in his eyes. 

“Listen. We’re holdin’ this Valley, no matter what,” Steve said, looking the young soldier in the eyes seriously. 

“We’re gonna die,” Klein said from the darkness, clutching his rifle like tightly to his chest. 

“We’re not gonna die,” Steve said plainly in response, crouching down beside him. “We can’t die, y’know why?” 

Klein didn’t make any move to acknowledge Steve’s question; but sat shaking and holding his gun tightly. 

“‘Cause we are so  _ very _ pretty,” Steve continued with a sly grin. “we are just too pretty for God to let us die.” 

A distant rumbling stopped the Captain in his tracks, and he paused for a brief moment to listen. _ His saviors. _ “But hell, don’t listen to me, listen to that. S’our angels comin’ down to send the Alliance runnin’. Nat, tell the 107th to-”

“They’re not coming.” Natasha interrupted solemnly, unblinking as she dropped the radio comms device onto the dirt and ashes. “Command says it’s too hot, they’re pulling out. We’re to lay down arms.” 

“Then, what’s...?” Steve trailed off without a thought, standing up and peering out to the battlefield to see, to confirm for himself what he already knew. One by one the Independent ships retreated, leaving nothing but the troops on the ground, desperately scrambling for cover in the chaos. Alliance gunships blocked out nearly all the light that was left from the fiery orange sunset, and in their wake left the light of distant explosions. Steve was vaguely aware of the soldier he’d spoke to before collapsing somewhere behind him, shot by a stray bullet from which side, he was no longer sure. He could only stare into the Valley, silent and still; almost paralyzed in disbelief, as he watched all he’d been trying to fight for crumble away in mere seconds.

* * *

 

They lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Uploaded 07/05/2019 23:43 EST  
> Yes, I'm finally gonna post this. It's been a long time coming, actually. This prologue has been sitting in my folder untouched for an unfortunate amount of time, and I recently decided to get my ass in gear with it. I do want to finish it, but admittedly, it will be slow. I have other things in the works at the moment, but I will return to this soon. By the way, you don't absolutely need to have watched Firefly or Serenity to enjoy this fic; I'm trying not to make it a shot-for-shot remake at least. Anyways, hope you enjoy. Say hi to me at catfasteve.tumblr.com.


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